


The History Project

by LamBams (forfitzsimmons)



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alex loves his mom so much, Alex's Mom - Freeform, Alexander Hamilton being dumb, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Multicultural characters, No Romance, Non-stop and it'll screw him over, Stressed Alexander
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2019-01-30 17:39:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12658293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forfitzsimmons/pseuds/LamBams
Summary: The boy is non-stop... stressing himself out between two jobs to pay his mother's medical bills and a history project that could get his scholarship taken away. It doesn't help that one of his partners isn't too happy about the topic he suggested.





	The History Project

**Author's Note:**

> I actually wrote this for my fiction class. Took over 12 hours of mentally screaming at Hamilton to stop being dumb. Have fun.

The History Project

“…and finally Alexander, Aaron, John, Hercules, and Gilbert are group six. Pick a major period in history to teach the class about. I’m going to be asking every group their topic tomorrow, so I’ll give you the rest of our class time to decide a topic with your team.” The students were about to move their desks when Mr. King added, “And don’t forget to share the work equally among yourselves.” He turned to glare at Alex. “Is that clear, Mr. Hamilton?”

The other students giggled behind him as Alex coughed awkwardly. “Yes, Mr. King.” God, he hated him. What was wrong with doing good work?

Alex searched the room for his group and spotted Aaron. He’d never actually met most of the students in class since he was always busy studying. Alex smoothed down his wrinkled and over-used shirt, hands sweaty and shaking. He slowly made his way toward the other boy.

Colonial Academy was a private school, so pretty much everyone was rich—except for Alexander. He was one of the few kids here on scholarship and it made him stand out, usually in a bad way. The looks he got when he walked down the hall in clothes littered with mismatched patches were enough to make him want to punch someone. Alex hoped his teammates wouldn’t look at him like most everyone else did.

“Aaron Burr, sir?” Alex held out his hand, looking over the perfectly straight posture and clean-shaven head of his teammate. “I’m Alex—Alex Hamilton. We’re in the same group.”

Aaron shook his hand with a firm grip. “Why so formal, kid? We’re groupmates, not business partners.” He jerked his head toward a few kids laughing in the back of the room. “Our delinquent partners are over there.”

Alex followed him to the back of the room, looking over the rowdy boys curiously. Seeing as Alex always sat in the front—the glasses on his face giving away why—he’d never given the students in the back much notice, but they seemed okay so far. The way they laughed and smiled made Alex a little less nervous.

“Gentleman,” Aaron said slowly, as if to make sure they could understand him, “Alex here is our other member. Alex, these are John Laurens, Hercules Mulligan, and Lafayette.” He whispered to Alex, “Don’t call him Gilbert if you want to keep your head.”

Alex did his best to commit the names to the faces in front of him. John was grinning with his face full of freckles. Hercules was huge, and Alex was pretty sure he was on the football team. Gilbert—Lafayette, he reminded himself, had a shock of curly hair restricted into a ponytail and short beard growing in, fuller than the perpetual five o’clock shadow Alex wore.

Something in Alex’s head clicked and then proceeded to smack him in the face. A large smile stretched across Alex’s face, eyes lighting up in excitement. He clapped his hands together to get his group’s attention.

“Guys, I know exactly what our topic should be!”

Aaron shook his head, “We haven’t even discussed it, yet. Hell, you haven’t even introduced yourself yet.”

“Look, just—just hear me out; it’ll be great!” He waited a moment, just because he couldn’t resist a dramatic pause. “We should do the American Revolution!”

Aaron was unamused but the other three started howling with laughter. The desks shook as Hercules pounded the table and John fell out of his chair. Lafayette was the first to recover.

“That’s exactly what we were thinking. It’s too good to pass up!”

“Seriously?” Aaron frowned. “You guys really want to make that joke? We can do better than the Revolution.”

Alex turned to Aaron. “Come on, you can’t tell me it wouldn’t be perfect. We could all do our part on our namesakes.”

“Which means you’d still get a majority of the work since Laurens died after the war ended, Lafayette went back to France for the French Revolution, Mulligan went back to being a tailor, and Burr is just famous for killing Hamilton and not much else.” Aaron sent a glare Alex’s way. “Meanwhile, Hamilton fights in the war, marries a rich girl, becomes Secretary of the Treasury, creates the national bank, cheats on his wife, loses his son, makes Burr lose his chance at being President, and then dies.”

Alex shrugged. “I don’t mind. I like learning and reading and writing. I guess I’m not that different from the original Hamilton in that respect. My mom actually said that one of our ancestors was raised by his wife after she opened up her orphanage.”

Aaron raided his hand. “I vote no.”

Lafayette laughed in Aaron’s face. “I think you are outnumbered, _mon ami_. Besides, we can be more detailed for those of us with shorter histories.”

John stood from his place on the floor and high-fived Alex. “I got a legacy too, Ham! My family’s actually from one of the soldiers who fought in John Laurens’ battalion. They changed their last name when they were freed.” He jumped around the group, whooping. Alex wondered if someone had fed the kid too much chocolate. “I’d be stoked to write about him.”

“Ham?” Alex scrunched his nose, not amused. “My name’s Alexander. No one calls their peers by their surname in real life—unless you live in Asia.”

John pouted at being called out. Hercules just gave Alex what was probably meant as a playful shoulder nudge, but felt more like he’d gotten punched. “I like you. You’ve got some fire in ya after all. Totally thought you’d be super boring since you’re a scholarship kid.”

Alex didn’t comment on that, for everyone’s sake. “So, I guess it’s settled! We could tell Mr. King now before someone else steals our topic.” Everyone but Burr voiced their approval, so Alex approached the teacher’s desk with the sound of his group loudly discussing their plans carrying from across the room.

Mr. King wasn’t paying attention when Alex made it up to his desk. The man seemed to be making notes in the British history section of the textbook.

“Sir?” Alex repeated the call louder when Mr. King didn’t respond. “Sir? My group decided on our topic.”

Mr. King looked up from the book and sighed. “I should’ve expected you to act quickly, Mr. Hamilton. Well, what’ll it be? Something you can write a book on, I’m guessing.”

“That was one time—and it was more like a novella, Sir.” Alex cleared his throat. “Well, I’m sure you’ve noticed the similarities we share with some historical figures, so we thought it’d be interesting if we did the American Revolution!”

Mr. King just blinked at him for a moment. The look he had on his face was the same one the librarian had given him when he’d requested to borrow the senior-level textbooks as well. The look that said, “Are you stupid?” For the record, he’s not.

“Mr. Hamilton,” Mr. King started, “I can’t accept that topic. There’s nothing you can say that hadn’t been said _last year_ when we covered American history in-depth.”

“Sir, with all due respect, I think we could shed a new light on it! We would each focus on a specific person rather than the Revolution overall. A war was fought, but who fought it? Humans! History looks upon the Founding Fathers like they’re saviors of the American people—but they were regular people too!” Alex’s voice started growing louder without his permission. “How did they get to be who they’re known as? Did you know Hamilton and Burr were orphans? Hamilton was an immigrant, actually, and he and Lafayette changed America even though they weren’t born here! What does that say about us as a country? How many people have actually considered that we were founded by immigrants? Has anyone considered what else Burr did in his life other than kill Hamilton and lose a few elections? Has anyone—“

“Mr. Hamilton!” Mr. King cut him short. Alex realized the room had gone silent and everyone was looking at him.

Alex’s mouth suddenly felt like it was stuffed with peanut butter. He couldn’t have spoken again if he’d tried. It was hard enough to breathe let alone fit words through.

Alex’s teacher sighed once more. He sent a glare at the rest of the class that sent them all back to talking amongst themselves, though Alex was pretty sure they were just talking about him. “If you can create an outline that shows me you’ve done more research than read last year’s textbook, I’ll accept your topic. I want it by Friday.”

Alex puffed out his chest. “I’ll have it by tomorrow.”

“I want an outline, not your entire project.” Mr. King was about to go back to making notes in the textbook, but paused. “And don’t forget this is a group project, Mr. Hamilton. If a majority of the project looks like a Hamilton original, your whole group will fail.”

Alex deflated, knocked off balance by his words. _Fail_. That wasn’t acceptable. The project was worth nearly half his grade. He had to keep his grades up to keep his scholarship, but could he trust his partners to put in their best effort?

Alex turned around to look at the smiling faces of his group—well, Aaron wasn’t smiling but the other three were. Alex knew Aaron did good work—he’d glanced high grades on his tests and papers all the time—but what of the others? Aaron had called them delinquents, so did they get bad grades? Alex couldn’t afford a bad grade, but he couldn’t afford taking over the project either.

Maybe he could study the writing style of his partners in case one or more dropped. _Yeah, that’d work._ Alex relaxed now that he had a back-up plan. He’d just have to pay close attention to his team.

With that settled, Alex made his way back to his group to let them know the verdict, though not the threat, and promise them that he’d get the outline done and send it to them for approval. No one objected, though Aaron still didn’t look very happy about the situation.

#

“I’m home, _mamá_ ,” Alex called from the entryway of his tiny apartment. He toed off his dirty shoes and made his way into his mother’s room.

Alex’s mother was a beautiful woman. Though she lay sick in bed, skin paled, hair oily, frame thinned, she was awesome. Even sick, her dark curls fell along her shoulders in waves, the light from the window reflected poetically off the tan skin that Alex would never match thanks to his father, and the fire in her brown eyes still lived. Keeping that fire was worth all the extra work Alex did.

She looked up from her book and smiled, all white teeth and dimples. “My Alexander, come greet your mother properly.”

Alex made his way over to his mother and kissed her on the cheek. “How are you feeling, _mamá_? Do you need me to get you anything before I head to work?”

“I’d like a bit of my son’s time, if that’s not too much to ask.” She brushed a stray hair behind Alex’s ears. “You’re so young, Alexander. You shouldn’t be working so much. Did you at least quit delivering newspapers, like I’d asked?”

Alex looked towards a book that sat on his mother’s lap, a dog-eared copy of MacBeth. “Of course.” He heard his mother huff.

“Alexander, _por favor_ , you’re going to end up being the one in bed if you run yourself ragged. I’ve told you, we get enough disability and unemployment—“

“To pay the rent and give us food, _mamá_ , but not for the doctors.” Alex stepped away from his mother’s side, feeling sick to his stomach. “I have to get ready for work.” He practically ran from the room before his mother could respond and he hated himself for it.

When he reached his room, he threw his backpack on the bed and changed into his uniform. It was black on black on black. Nothing about him was meant to stand out, and Alex was okay with that. The less he stood out, the more homework he could get done at work.

He rifled through his bag and switched out everything he wouldn’t need. Folders and textbooks were replaced by his shitty off-brand tablet he’d bought at a garage sale (it had a word processor and the internet and that was all he needed anyway), his school planner was replaced with his ink-stained life agenda after adding a few quick notes—in the margins, because there wasn’t space anywhere else—, and a moth-ball sweater was thrown in because the diner was either boiling or freezing over with no in-between and no warning.

He put his backpack back on and made sure he hadn’t left anything important. He knew by heart that he wouldn’t have to leave for at least another hour to get to work on time, but the short (and recurring, if Alex were to be honest) argument with his mother was making the apartment feel suffocating. Part of it was because Alex knew his mother was right, and the other part that gnawed at him more was that Alex hated being wrong. He’d once turned in an essay on why he should’ve gotten a test question right, done the research and everything to prove his point in detail and it earned him that one point back that he should’ve had to begin with. Well, that and Mr. King’s occasional animosity.

Alex debated leaving without saying goodbye to his mother, but thought better of it. There had been enough close calls for him to know better.

“ _¿_ _Mamá?_ ” Alex peered around the door. “I’m heading to work. _Te amo_.”

She waved him over and Alex approached his mother, looking like he’d been caught stealing from a cookie jar. His mother sat up and reached over to straighten the collar of his shirt. The simple gesture helped lift some guilt off his shoulders.

“ _Te amo_ , Alexander. That’s why I worry for you.”

“I know. It’s why I worry about you too. _Lo siento_ for earlier. I just want to help.”

“Think of yourself every so often, _por favor_.”

“Okay.” He nodded. “Can I make you food before I go?”

“ _No gracias_. I think I feel well enough to make my own.”

“Okay, don’t forget to keep your phone on you. Call me if—“ Alex was cut off by his mother’s laugh.

“I’m meant to be the one fussing over you.”

Alex just smiled and left another kiss on his mother’s cheek. She sent him a smile on his way out.

The bike ride to work left Alex feeling peaceful by the time he arrived at the diner. He waved hello to his manager, who absently waved back while she played a game on her phone, noted the one guy who Alex was sure never left, and set up shop at a table in the back. Time passed quickly with his manager occasionally calling on him to do one thing or another. Alex wasn’t exactly sure how they stayed open with so little business, but it meant he got paid to do homework. No complaints there.

By the end of his 9-hour shift, Alex had made the outline, with the help of about 50 tabs to cite sources and a few different documents to gather his thoughts together for each person, sent it off to his group for approval and edits, ate a questionable bowl of stew, and started to preemptively work on his part of the project. Alex was confident the outline would pass King’s scrutiny. If not, he’d find another way to get what he wanted.

“Quittin’ time, Alex!” His manager nudged his shoulder, gesturing at the darkened diner. “Gotta lock up. Get your butt home to your mom.”

Alex saved his work and packed up his tablet. “Can’t. I gotta deliver newspapers now. Thanks for letting me work on school stuff.”

“Come on, kid. Go work yourself to an early grave elsewhere. I don’t want to be liable. Can’t afford the work comp.”

Alex laughed and shouldered his things, grabbing a rag to quickly wipe the tables down before he walked out the door. “See ya tomorrow!”

He stopped by the local newspaper headquarters to get his stack before biking around the town in the middle of the night. The quiet helped Alex focus on his thoughts. Ideas for his history project, the essay Mrs. Ross was going to explain on Monday, calculations of how much he’d need to make to pay for the next round of medical bills, and other things circled around his head as he periodically threw a newspaper onto someone’s lawn.

A sudden succession of beeps made Alex almost crash into a mailbox. Chest heaving from the adrenaline and near-accident he’d gotten into, he checked his phone to find messages from Aaron.

[From: ABurr]: wtf alex (3:48am)

[From: ABurr]: u want me to write this?? (3:48am)

[From: ABurr]: What happened to getting more in-depth?? this outline is about Burr’s relationship w Hamilton (3:50am)

[From: ABurr]: would you answer already?? it’s almost 1am (3:51am)

_Shit_. The signal in most of Alex’s side of town was terrible. He sent back a couple apology texts before getting to the issue. They’d need to come to some kind of agreement before he turned in the outline or King would be able to smell Aaron’s dissatisfaction.

[To: ABurr]: shit sorry my phone has crappy signal (3:58am)

[To: ABurr]: wat do u want to write then?? (3:58am)

[To: ABurr]: u can write wat you want I just put suggestions ok? (3:59am)

[To: ABurr]: didn’t mean to like offend you (4:00am)

Alex received no reply, so he assumed he’d gotten the message way too late. He’d have to come up with some alternatives when he got home to prevent a fight the next day, er, in the next 5 hours. Alex rubbed at his eyes, deciding to grab a couple cans of Red Bull at a gas station before he went home.

He finished up his route and was on his way to the gas station when a beep startled him again. He expertly swerved before he hit one of the gas pumps. “ _¡Mierda!_ I swear if that’s Aaron…” Alex checked his phone and it was Aaron. Alex made a face and chose to lock up his bike before reading the texts.

He handed the night’s tips to the cashier for two Red Bulls and a Twix bar before finally opening his phone and replying. He cringed at the time glaring at him from the screen.

[From: ABurr]: U up? (5:52am)

[To: ABurr]: Still here yeah (5:59am)

[From: ABurr]: look I get it (6:00am)

[From: ABurr]: u want a good grade (6:00am)

[From: ABurr]: so do i (6:00am)

[From: ABurr]: but u can’t do the whole damn thing (6:01am)

[To: ABurr]: I know that’s why I made an outline for everyone to approve (6:03am)

His last text left him waiting for a reply. Alex chewed on his candy bar and finished off one of his Red Bull before Aaron finally responded.

[From: ABurr]: I really don’t think your getting it (6:17am)

Well, yeah, he didn’t get it since Aaron wasn’t exactly being clear about what he wanted. Somehow the one partner he’d trusted not to be trouble turned out to be the worst one.

[To: ABurr]: look just do your thing. I know you’re smart and know what you’re doing so put down what you want to write so I can edit the outline and go to bed (6:20am)

[From: ABurr]: u haven’t been to bed yet??? Wtf alex go tf to sleep we’ll talk later (6:21am)

As nice as sleep sounded, Alex still had plenty to do before school started. After throwing back the second energy drink, Alex sped off towards home. He quietly made his way back into the apartment, smiling at the dirty dishes that hadn’t existed before he left.

The next few hours were spent in intervals of 20-minute naps and working on schoolwork. Alex knew it was better to get ahead now so he wouldn’t be pulling all-nighters when finals came around. Alex had just finished the chapter they’d be studying in science that day when his alarm blared in his ear.

He grabbed a bagel, greeted his mother, and biked to school, making sure that his phone was on silent as he rode through the streets. Aaron was waiting for him when he reached the bike rack in front of the school.

Aaron looked him up and down. Alex struggled to stop himself from shying away from his scrutiny. Focusing on his annoyance helped.

“You look like shit.” Aaron raised a brow. “Jesus, and here I thought I stayed up late. No wonder you’re either super quiet or extra irritable.”

“I’m not irritable,” I said, irritated. “Have you figured out what you’re gonna write or what?”

“I’m gonna write everything other than his relationship to Hamilton—except for when we do the group analysis where we describe the relationships between the five of them.”

“Fair enough. We’ll just tell King that. He likes you better than me, anyway.”

“Maybe because you handed in an essay on why he was wrong about a test question when you already had a 99%.”

Alex didn’t respond, feeling too hazy to find a good comeback. “Let’s just go to class.”

He was thankful even exhausted Alex took excellent notes, because he didn’t remember anything other than going to class and getting King’s reluctant approval. He wasn’t even sure how he got home, but it seemed like he’d looked up and found himself in bed, his mother setting at his side.

The room was darker than he’d expect for the middle of the day. A glance at his alarm clock had him dizzy with how fast he shot out of bed. "Why didn’t you wake me?” He stumbled around his room, searching for his uniform. “I should’ve been at work 3 hours ago!”

Alex’s mother grabbed him by the back of his collar and forced him back onto the bed. “I called the diner for you. Your manager thanked me for calling you in sick.” A frown stretched across her face. “She thanked me, Alexander. Do you see the issue here?”

“Uh, I guess she doesn’t like me much?” It sounded dumb even to his sleep-deprived ears. “ _Lo siento_.”

“Stay home. I’ll call the newspaper too. Sleep.” The tone of her voice and the finger she pointed at Alex left no room for discussion.

His mother left him there in his bed, wobbling precariously as she went to call the newspaper. The shaking in his mother’s frame forced tears to his eyes. It wasn’t supposed to work like that. Alex should be taking care of her, not the other way around. She was the one who was sick and here he was being—being—

“Useless.” He shoved his face into the single lumpy pillow on his bed and tried to smother himself. After a moment of failing to shove his inadequacy elsewhere, Alex decided to do the only thing he was good at.

After locking the door to prevent his mother from scolding him again, Alex pulled out his part of the history project and got to work. If he finished it now, he wouldn’t lose sleep over it later. He’d get an A and go back to work and his mother would know he could take care of her.

The next time he looked up from his work, the sun was coming up. He was almost done with a section of the project and Alex debated sleeping versus finishing up. An image of his mother’s quivering form as she walked out of his room made the decision for him…

But he was so close to being done, Alex could taste it. Besides, if he slept now, he might not wake up in time for school. Alex glanced between his tablet and his bed, a twinge of guilt ran through him when he chose to make his bed instead of getting in it.

He finally finished about half an hour before his alarm, so he took a victory nap. He still felt a little off-balance the next morning, but a quick coffee run helped him perk up. The day passed and he managed to convince his mother he didn’t need another day off. He wouldn’t be able to pay her medical bills if he took anymore days off.

The next few weeks passed in much the same way. By the time Mr. King’s history project was due, Alex was 90% caffeine and 10% pure stubbornness. As Aaron had once pointed out, he switched from quiet to irritable every other day, sometimes laughing with his group and sometimes snapping at them to use their pencils instead of their mouths. None of them mentioned his mood swings after he’d nearly bit Hercules’ head off for asking if he was pregnant. He felt a sick pride at knowing he—a scrawny kid about 5’3—managed to scare the huge football player.

Aaron had tried multiple times to be friendly, even after the others gave up, but Alex either didn’t respond or got upset and started an argument out of pure spite. The minutes after waking up from a nap left him feeling sick and guilty until the sleepy haze kicked in again.

The due date for their project was quiet. They were first up since most of the other groups picked more modern events. Alex’s original fear that his partners wouldn’t do their fair share was unfounded, so they all stood ready to present. The ticking of the clock left Alex on edge as he remembered how much the presentation would be worth.

“Alright, group six, come up to the front and teach the class something they don’t already know about the American Revolution.” Mr. King sat back in his chair and gestured at Alex’s group. His slight sarcasm made Alex’s eye twitch.

“Thank you, Sir,” Alex said. He held his chin up and did his best not to stumble on his way onto the slightly raised platform Mr. King usually lectured from. “As Mr. King implied, we should all be familiar with the Revolution, but what we wish to show you are some of the faces behind it. Each of us chose to go in-depth on our namesake. Hamilton, Burr, Laurens, Mulligan, and Lafayette—each played a role in the Revolution and the events that followed.”

The individual part of the presentation went without a hitch. Alex felt more confident, but the second part, the group analysis, would really make it or break it. It also went fine, until Alex and Aaron began discussing the relationship between Hamilton and Burr.

“Hamilton was a very pushy individual, leaving Burr out of the loop often,” Aaron began.

_Wait, what? You will not hijack my presentation, Aaron._ “Well, Hamilton and the others weren’t big fans of Burr since he seemed to only care about himself and his image.”

A dangerous current passed between him and Aaron. “Is it so wrong to be ambitious?”

“Only if it interferes with the good work of others.”

“Perhaps Hamilton shouldn’t have taken over everything Burr wanted to do.” Aaron wrote a list of things Burr had lost to Hamilton on the board. “That’s a pretty long list. From becoming a bigger part of the war to preventing him from becoming president, Hamilton screwed Burr over a lot.”

Alex turned to glare at his partner. “Maybe Burr should’ve actually said what he wanted and believed in rather than be sneaky and passive-aggressive about it.”

“Maybe Hamilton should’ve figured out when enough was enough. You’d think he’d know better than to work himself to death after his mother—“

A fist met Aaron’s face before he could end that sentence. With a sudden clarity, Alex realized that fist had been his. After a moment of silence, Aaron threw himself at him and the two of them started to wrestle on the ground. Alex earned himself a black eye before their groupmates managed to separate them.

Mr. King hollered, “Both of you, principal’s office, now!” He thrust his index finger at the door.

Panic swelled in Alex until he was choking on it. He felt dizzy all over again, dizzier than he had been the past few weeks. For a surreal moment, Alex wasn’t even sure if he was breathing.

“Alex?” Someone called to him, but he had a hard time hearing over the roar in his ears. “Alex!”

The last thing he registered was someone catching him as he fell to the ground.

#

Alex woke up somewhere unfamiliar. It smelled like sanitizer and the sheet beneath him felt vaguely itchy. He felt like he was being rocked by a wayward boat despite being sure he was on land.

“Alexander Hamilton?” A woman on a rolling chair wheeled over to him. “How are you feeling, honey?”

“Like I dueled my classmate.” He sat up, groaning.

“Well, you’re close. I had to treat Mr. Burr’s bruised jaw while you were out.” She moved to her desk and gathered some bandages and anti-septic together. “You passed out mostly from exhaustion, which could probably explain your actions. I called your mother—“

Alex stiffened. “No! When did you call her? She isn’t coming is she?”

“She has to speak to the principal and pick you up.” The nurse put her things down to gaze at her patient.

“No, no, she’s sick. She needs to be resting!” Alex felt dizzy again. He jumped when he felt the nurse put a hand to his shoulder.

“Alexander, if you can hear me, nod.” She rubbed his shoulder when he nodded. “Watch and copy my breathing, okay? In…out…in…out…”

Alex forced himself to follow the nurse’s instructions. A detached part of his brain commented, _Oh, that was a panic attack._ The nurse backed up when he was no longer struggling to breathe.

“Don’t worry, Alexander. She said a neighbor would be coming with her and I doubt the principal will take your scholarship after he knows the whole story.”

Alex mumbled, “You don’t even know the full story.”

“I don’t need to know it to understand.”

Alex spent the rest of his time in the nurse’s office sleeping. It felt strange to not be sleeping in intervals. He woke every 30 minutes or so before falling back asleep.

He woke up to the feel of a soft hand on his cheek. Alex opened his eyes to find his mother bent over him, sitting in the chair the nurse had previously occupied. Alex readied himself for the reaming of a lifetime, but his mother didn’t say a word, but brushed stray hair out of his eyes. He almost didn’t notice a figure moving behind her.

“Aaron?” His voice was scratchy from sleep and felt raw. He spied the ugly bruise on the left side of Aaron’s face and cringed, wincing at the pain from his eye. “Not sure this was exactly how Hammurabi would’ve done it. I think it was eye for an eye, not an eye for a jaw.”

“I could make that happen,” he said, though the twitch of his lips said he was trying to make a joke. “I’m sorry I took over the presentation. I know how much you admire Hamilton, but I wanted to defend Burr and shi—“ He stopped when he remembered Alex’s mother. “I thought the best way to state my point would be to insult Hamilton. Sorry.”

Alex breathes in and sucks up his pride while he’s at it. “I’m sorry too. You know, for starting a scene and punching you.” Alex glanced at his mother and grinned. “And I’m not just saying that because my mother is here.”That earned him a laugh from both of his visitors.

“Oh, yeah,” Aaron added, “I found out our grade. A 93. Principal Washington convinced King to consider the fight as a ‘modern reenactment’ of Burr and Hamilton’s duel.”

Alex let the news register before he started laughing hysterically. All that work and stress and sleep-deprivation and fighting, and they got a 93. Alex wasn’t exactly sure what the funniest part was or if any of it actually was funny, but he felt better than he had in weeks and he wasn’t about to question.

When Alex finally calmed down, he wiped tears from his eyes and looked to his mother. “Can we go home, _Mamá_? I think I’d rather sleep at home.”

“Of course. Mrs. Ross is waiting outside. _Te amo_ , Alexander.”

Alex blushed, looking from his mother to his classmate. “ _¡Mamá!”_

She laughed and Alex decided resting and letting his mother embarrass him would be worth it for her to laugh like that again.


End file.
